Page 14 of One Night with the Werewolf
His eyes are like set emeralds in his face. Feeling ashamed of myself for even asking, I quickly pull up the app, my hands shaking. Shit. I look so pathetic right now.
Then I’ve called it, but since we’re a ways out, it will be six or seven minutes until it gets here. But with the frosty air that’s now gathered in this house, I say something like, “Guess I’ll be going now,” and head to the front door. I don’t actually remember, because by that point, I was shutting down.
Now I sit on the front curb, waiting, wishing I had never come here last night.
CHAPTER
SIX
ROSCOE
Iwatch Emelia from the window as she sits on the curb, staring out at nothing. I left no room for contradiction when I told her it was time to go, but she didn’t need to wait outside. She could have waited in here. That would be safer.
Instead, I stand there and watch to make sure nothing happens to her until a green SUV appears outside. She checks with the driver, then climbs into the back before the car pulls away.
I’m never going to see her again.
It’s a goddamned knife through my gut, just thinking this thought. The wolf goes apeshit, banging at the walls of his cage deep down inside. We can’t have just let her go like that, he argues, but it falls on deaf ears.
This was the right thing to do. Give her no reason to doubt, no reason to even think about calling me again. She needs to delete me from her phone forever and move on with her life.
There is no happy ending with me.
When she’s gone, I make myself some eggs and sausage, because I need the fat and the protein after drinking so muchlast night. It really gets harder with age, recovering from a night like that. I’ll feel like shit until Monday at least.
But I make myself go to the gym anyway, and take a long, hot shower in the locker rooms. In my mind, though, I can’t stop replaying it—the sight of her on her knees in front of me, my cock sliding in and out of her sopping wet pussy as it squeezed and clenched around me. It was so fucking good, being inside her, making her mine, that I’d been desperate to push myself all the way in, knot and all.
Bad idea, Roscoe.
But already, the swell at the base of my cock is inflating, thinking about what it was like to fuck Emelia last night. I might have been drunk, but I remember every single second of it. How she cried out my name. I don’t know where calling her mygood girlcame from, but she had loved that, her pussy pulsing and gripping me tight.
Absolutely fucking magical. And I will never, ever have it again.
All I can do is sigh and turn off the water, unwilling to justify my dick’s urges in a public locker room.
I have a full-blown headache by the time I get home, and I guzzle down plenty of water to go with my over-the-counter painkillers. Then I lay on the couch, feeling rather miserable for myself, and turn on the TV.
But I don’t absorb any of it. All I can think about is Emelia’s hurt face as she left my house, the way her shoulders hunched as she sat lonely on the curb, waiting for her ride.
I wish I could be what she needs, but I’m not.
EMELIA
Arin is the only one who knows what really happened because, obviously, I didn’t come home last night. But when they see my haggard face, they just hug me.
“Not a good idea,” I say, sniffling.
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
I shake my head. What happened last night… it’s precious to me, as much as it is tarred. It’s something I want to hoard all to myself, because then I can love it and enjoy it without being ashamed of it.
“It’s all right,” Arin says, helping me over to the couch. “I’m here if you just want to cry.”
I knew it was a one-night stand, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve lost something immense, something that could be the pivot point of my life.
Maybe it’s just the post-sex hormones.
I’m starving, so Arin and I go out to brunch and try to make the best of the day, running errands and doing our grocery shopping. I don’t hear from Jason, which is more of a relief than anything. Part of me hopes I never see him again.
